Wedding Day
by AceOfSpades22
Summary: Antonio is getting married! To someone that... isn't Arthur? The bastard makes Arthur endure the pain of getting ready... How will Arthur survive the tortures Elizabeta puts him through, while trying to keep a hold of his shattering heart?


Wedding Day

Soft hands found themselves wound through a mess of chocolate waves, and verdant eyes, though they still held the misty haze of those who have just awoken, peered at the face of the angel who was owner to the soft, delectable locks. Sun-kissed skin covered cheeks defined only just by the bones underneath, silken eyelids covered orbs of the most brilliant shade of emerald, and perfect, warm rises rested just below his nose. It was these, lips of a dusty rose, that Arthur loved to think about the most, though they weren't his favorite feature of the Spaniard that lay soundlessly asleep beside him. Or were they? This angel of a man could melt the hearts of anyone he desired with the charismatic, beautiful smile he so often wore, yet if it weren't for his bright, leafy eyes, the smile would be robbed of all the emotion that sent spasms through Arthur's heart. No. It must be the eyes that were Arthur's favorite part.

As Arthur watched the man sleep with light, affectionate amusement shimmering in his jade green eyes, he could almost forget what was to take place in the early evening hours of the chilly winter day that was just beginning. Arthur was hopelessly, unquestionably, undeniably head over heels in love with Antonio. He had been for years. It wasn't often the two spent time together anymore, but when they did, they'd stay up into the wee hours of the morning, just talk talk talking away. That was why Arthur was still over at the groom-to-be's house, why he was in the man's bed that would undoubtedly hold another warm body in it that very night. Not his own, though he wished with all of his grieving heart that it was.

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was to be married that night to an exquisite Spanish rose that had held the man's eye for so long. The woman who had stolen Antonio's heart was in every way the opposite of Arthur. She was Spanish, beautiful, mysterious and female, while Arthur was simply Arthur Kirkland. English, average, sullen and very, very male. It wasn't hard to see why he would be overlooked by someone as handsomely attractive as Antonio, for someone so exquisitely beautiful. It almost made the British man want to cry, though he held off as tanned eyelids opened to reveal bright emerald orbs of nervous excitement. "I'm getting married... Arturo! I'm getting married!" He cried, sounding happy, though perhaps just a little hesitant. "Aie! Mio Dio! I... I'm getting _married..._" He murmured, sounding terrified.

"Chap... You'll be fine. Marriage isn't all that big a deal. A bit frightening at first, but if you're in love, who's to stop you from being happy?" Arthur said with a smile, bravely hiding his sheer misery from the ecstatic, frightened man before him. After all, it wasn't fair for Antonio to know just how much being there hurt him. He wasn't at all sure how he was going to be able to stand watching some beautiful woman walk down the aisle all in white to marry his Antonio. "You should probably be getting up and ready though... It takes time to prepare for these things." He said, suppressing a sigh. _Are you sure this is what you want? _His heart screamed, begging inside Arthur's chest for Antonio to notice him.

"Oh you would know amigo. How many times have you been married again? Oh... That's right... You haven't! Fusososo. Relax Iggy. I'll be ready when the time comes... The real question is, will you?" Antonio asked, some unknown, mischievous thought swirling in the depths of his mind.

Would Arthur? What was that supposed to mean? He wasn't the one getting married! Sure, being the groom's best man, he was required to dress nicely, but it wouldn't take him much more than a couple hours to be prepared. "Antonio, it won't take me long at all. I will be ready, as always. Has there ever been a time I have disappointed you?" Arthur asked, proud at how even his voice sounded while his thoughts swam with the impossibility of deciphering what Antonio could have possibly meant. _The real question is, will you? Bah! That bloody wanker... Will I be ready... _

"You have yet to fail me, amigo. I'm sure you will be ready... But just so you know, Elizabeta is supposed to help dress you up all nice. She is sending Gilbert to help me, but she wanted to see to you personally. Something about you having bad taste and not wanting to ruin the beauty of such an extravagant wedding?" Antonio said with a grin, though he quickly threw his hands up in defense at the glare he received from the British man who still half lay beside him. "Don't get huffy with me! Blame the Hungarian! It wasn't my idea."

"I don't want help from that bloody woman! Last time we spoke she was trying to take tweezers to my eyebrows!" Arthur huffed in exasperation, but the crestfallen look on Antonio's face sent a pang of agony through his already breaking heart. "Oh... Anthony don- Alright.. Alright! She can help..." He relented, a bit confused as to why he needed help in the first place. He had never heard of the best man getting ready with any form of help, but then, he hadn't been to many weddings, and had never been important in any. For all he knew, it was a normal occurrence. "When does she-" He was never able to finish his question as Antonio's bedroom door was flung open, and in came Elizabeta, soon followed by her cackling albino husband, and Antonio's best friend, Gilbert.

"Antonio! Shameful!" Elizabeta hissed. Arthur was so sure it was because he was in Antonio's bed, cocooned up in his thick, crimson comforter, but then Elizabeta was ripping back the covers and pulling Antonio to his feet. She hadn't paid any notice to the slightly blushing Brit. "Still in bed on the day of your wedding! There is so much work to do! Francis will be here soon and Feliciano wanted to help too." She said, spinning him around and into a chair all in the same movement. Gilbert immediately walked to Antonio's side, laughing in his odd way, and it wasn't until the two had actually left the house before pale green eyes fixed themselves on Arthur. "You too! Laying in bed, distracting the groom! I should pluck every last hair of your eyebrows! Come. Come with me now! Leave them to their business. We have work to do. I will not have you ruining this wedding looking like that!" She scolded, though what she was basing her opinions off of, Arthur would never know, seeing as he was still in his pajamas. Before he could say a word on the subject, he was being pulled from the bed and whisked away into the other room with a determined looking, scary Hungarian woman at his heels.

"Strip down to your boxers and don't question anything I do! If you do, Antonio has given me the right to touch your precious eyebrows!" Elizabeta threatened, in a tone that was dead serious, as Arthur quickly, but most bewilderedly, removed his pajama bottoms and top. He did as she said in not questioning her, even when she pushed him into a chair and poured hot wax on his legs,carelessly spilling the burning liquid on the floor. "This might sting..." She commented with a half crazed smile. Before Arthur could question what was about to happen, _r-i-i-i-p_!

"_OW! _Bloody hell! That hurt! You crazy cunt! What is wrong with you?!" Arthur howled furiously as the hairs on his legs were ripped up from their follicles. His eyes watered, robbing his glare from most of his anger. "Why would you do th-"

"Eyebrows~!" Elizabeta threatened in a sweet, sing-song voice as she prepared to tear out another swath of soft leg hairs. "Good boy." Was all she said as Arthur hastily fell silent and _r-i-i-i-p_! Out came another section of hair.

The process was repeated on both legs until Arthur was left with overly sensitive, hairless red skin on his legs, watering eyes and a nasty temper. He imagined this was what it felt like to be plucked. He'd never look at chicken the same way again. _Why the bloody hell do I need to suffer through this? What difference does it make?!_ He wanted to snap, but each time he so much as looked at Elizabeta in a wrong way, she would say the word 'eyebrows' in a sweet, sing-song voice and Arthur would fall silent with a grumble. Lucky for him his underarms and chest didn't have much hair at all and were deemed 'good enough' without having to be brutalized by this mad-woman.

Once Elizabeta had decided him hairlessly worthy, she sent him off to take a shower, something Arthur was exceedingly grateful for. He all but ran for Antonio's bathroom and shut and locked the door. He had been in tis bathroom many times before, but that didn't stop hims from looking around each time he found himself in the distinctly Spanish room. Of course the main color of the decor was a deep red, but the tiled walls were a rusty brown-orange, beautiful and exotic, just like Antonio. As he scanned the room, his eyes flitted to the mirror above the sink. Jade eyes stared at him in the mirror for a long while, his own of course, though he could almost pretend they were someone else's. He focused with all his heart and mind on the green eyes in the mirror until all he could think about was Antonio looking back at him. His Antonio, though he couldn't rightfully call him that, seeing as he held no claim to the man. At that thought he tore his boxers off and stepped into the shower, feeling the overwhelming need to get away from those eyes... He turned the water on to a blistering hot temperature that made his pale skin glow cherry red as he stood there, but the biting pain of the too-hot water was enough to tear his mind away from the Spaniard he adored.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had a bottle of Antonio's exotic smelling soap in his hand and was taking in lungful after lungful of the familiar scent, tears cutting cool paths down his cheeks as his heart yearned for Antonio and Antonio alone. It wasn't fair! He loved the Spaniard so much, more than anything in the world. He adored him! Why couldn't he see that? The familiar smell of Antonio's assortment of soaps did little to calm him down and soon he was a wreck, trembling and sobbing in the shower, clutching a bottle of shampoo to his slick chest, all the while asking himself why. Water mixed with tears as he cried and cried and cried. Too-hot turned to hot, hot turned to tolerable, tolerable turned to warm, warm turned to cold, and cold turned to freezing as Arthur stood there, staring blankly at the burnt sienna tiles on the walls. With the steadily decreasing water temperature, he was able to staunch the flood from his eyes and with their absence, lock away the emotions that had overwhelmed him. He was so numb that by the time Elizabeta came pounding furiously at the door, his brain barely even registered her voice.

"Arthur! You've been in there for over an hour! Really I think it is time to get out, or your eyebrows are mine!" Elizabeta's voice came hissing through the door, threatening and sweet. Had Arthur been alright, he might have questioned how Gilbert survived with such a determined, stubborn woman, but instead he focused on the numb feeling in his heart as it shattered and died. He didn't even bother to respond, instead he simply shut off the now icy water and groped blindly for a towel to wrap his shivering body in. Icy dribbles were still cascading down his back from his hair as he walked back into the room from before, wrapped in a dark red towel.

"Took you long enough! I was beginning to think you died We can't have that happening, now can we?" Elizabeta said, tone strictly business as she walked into the closet and came back with a white silken slip. "Don't argue." She reminded sweetly as she threw the dress-like garment at Arthur, along with a pair of what looked to be black silken underwear... for a female.

_Oh Elizabeta... I have died. _Arthur thought despondently as he slid the frilly things on first, and then the slip without question, complaint, or even a glare. He missed the flash of worry that crossed Elizabeta's eyes, too lost in grief to focus on anything but staying inside his shell of numbness. He turned to face her after a few moments of just standing there and observed her pursed lips with vacant eyes.

"I think it might be time for the Englishman to have his tea... Let me dry your hair first and then we can break for lunch. How does that sound?" Elizabeta asked gently, taking the crimson bath towel from where Arthur had discarded it on the floor and draping it over his head. As soft and gentle as she could manage, the Hungarian towel dried Arthur's hair before gently pushing him down into a chair and blow drying it the rest of the way. The warm air did little to warm the chilled man up, but he could hardly care. Why should being cold matter when his heart was destined to die? "Let me just fix your hair up while you're sitting here I suppose." She said before running her fingers through silken blond locks and expertly weaving beautiful, glittering diamonds into his hair. The entire process only took her a few minutes, but when she was done Arthur couldn't help but admire her handy work, even if it was painfully feminine.

"It's beautiful Eliza. Thank you." Arthur managed to say, his voice sounding strangely dead, even to his own ears. Somewhere inside himself a piece was screaming for him to pull it together, but he just couldn't. He only vaguely acknowledged the gracious nod of Eliza's head and her words that promised tea and pastries as he was pulled along in his stupor to the table that sat outside in the back yard. He didn't really remember sitting in the beautiful wrought iron chair, nor did he recall Elizabeta bringing out a try with tea and lunch, but all too soon he was being taken back into the room. It was 2:00... a mere two hours before the wedding. In an hour they'd have to pack up and head to the church. Arthur felt the remainder of his heart explode in his chest in what could only have been a bloody, painful display.

"Trust me Arthur... Everything will be ok." Elizabeta said softly, her earlier threatening and teasing gone as the man she was making over seemed to slip further and further away. She wasn't entirely sure he had heard her, seeing as he didn't react to her words in anyway. _Poor dear... _She thought as she guided him back to the chair and sat him down in it. "Have you ever had eyeliner applied before, dear? I didn't think so... Just keep your eyes open and trust me ok?" Came her soft command as a simple black pencil made it's way to her hand. It was almost better when Arthur was grudgingly going along with things and grumbling angrily to himself than this silent, distant state he had slipped into, but Eliza had to admit it was much easier to do what she needed with him being compliant. The eyeliner was applied with an expert hand all to easily, followed closely by mascara and the faintest traces of blush to his cheeks. By the time she was finished, Arthur barely recognized himself, though whether that was due to the minimal make up, the glimmering things in his blonde hair, or the dead look in his eyes he wasn't sure, and frankly, at this point he didn't care.

"It's about time to go... We'll have to finish dressing you there, Iggy." Eliza said as she made her way to the closet and removed a black garment bag. Faint sparks of curiosity flashed in Arthur's eyes, though the emotion wasn't strong enough for him to act upon and ask what was inside, instead he stood almost mechanically and slid out the door behind Elizabeta. "Ah... I'm running out of time!" She squeaked, flying out of the house and to Gilbert's car. She fished the keys from her pocket and unlocked the car, all but flinging her bag into the back. Twitchy and edgy, she took care to hang the garment bag before she got in and started the car. "Let's GO Iggy!" She called with a blaring honk of her horn. The poor Brit hadn't hardly had time to close the door before the Hungarian pulled out of the drive way with a squeal of the tires and rocketed down the road.

Her driving was enough to shatter the numb shell that had protected Arthur from his pain, and soon he was white knuckled as he held onto the arm of the chair, trying very very hard not to scream all the vulgarities he could think of as she drove more recklessly than an Italian in her hast to make time. Mercifully they made it to the church in just under an hour, and more importantly, without irreparable damage. "I'm never getting in a bloody car with you again!" He growled, trembling from the fright he had just endured. "What's the bloody rush anyway?"

"Less talking, more getting inside! I'm running out of time!" Elizabeta snapped, relieved she didn't have to be gentle with him now that he seemed relatively aware of what was going on. The church was already filled to bursting with people, and here they were, not ready in the slightest! She could have torn her hair out in frustration, if she had the time. The bridesmaids were already lining up by the door. Scratch that. They were already walking _out _the door. Where had her time gone? "Put these on!" She said frantically, handing Arthur a pair of dainty silver heels. When he looked about to protest she sent him a death glare and turned away. "Walk barefoot then!"

Appalled and terribly confused, Arthur obliged grudgingly and slipped on the strappy things that would no doubt cause his death. They were high and awkward and he felt wobbly, unstable. He reached out for the wall and realized... He was still only wearing a slip. Color flooded his cheeks. He was standing just inside the church doors, surrounded by women in their bridesmaids dresses, knowing many of them on a personal level... "Elizabeta! Woman! I shou-"

"No talking!" She shrieked in a hushed whispers. Gloves, white satin gloves, were shoved onto Arthur's hands as soon as he had rightened himself, and before he understood what was happening Elizabeta was shoving him forward into a huge, ornate white skirt... No. It wasn't a skirt it was a... "Help me damn it!" A furious growl sounded from behind him as Elizabeta slammed his arms into the sleeves of the heavy white garment and zipped it up his back. It was a dress. Arthur was in a friking wedding dress. A veil was placed on his head and he was literally shoved through the door just as the cannon started up. And...

There was Antonio. His Antonio. Upon the alter with the biggest grin spread across his face. Pure, unfiltered love show in the Spaniard's eyes as he trailed Arthur's every movement, not wanting to take his eyes off him for a second. Arthur felt so very uncomfortable and self-conscious. His cheeks were a deep scarlet and he found himself tripping and stumbling over the train of the dress. The death traps on his feet weren't much help either. He had been set up! Here he looked like a fool in a dress, all for some sick joke on Antonio's part! Yet, despite his irritation, Arthur couldn't hold back the waves of joy and exultation that washed over him as he realized that Antonio was going to be his!

A bit breathless, Arthur stepped up beside Antonio, butterflies knocking against his stomach, head swimming dizzily, and a mixture of indignant fury and pure adoration waging war in his eyes. Antonio's shoulders shook ever so slightly as he chuckled softly, no doubt finding Arthur's reaction highly amusing. How many times had Arthur dreamed of those eyes, brilliant, sparkling emeralds, fixing him with a loving look like the one he was receiving? How often had he dreamed of being able to claim this man for his own? Here he was now, never having even gone on a proper date and getting married all the same!

Antonio was breathtaking in his black and red tuxedo, not the traditional colors of choice, but Arthur would have it no other way. The chocolate locks of hair he had been so lovingly playing with that very morning, had been left to freely fall wherever they chose to, messy, and both sexy and adorable at the same time. He looked proud and it took Arthur a long while to realize the pride came from showing Arthur off to the crowd that had gathered for their wedding. His self-conscious blush deepened impossibly redder and he found himself fidgeting with the folds of his wedding dress. His _wedding dress. _What an absurd thought! How dare Antonio put him in a dress! The nerve of that damn Spaniard, first leading him to believe he was hopelessly in live with a woman, then planning a surprise wedding _and _making him wear a damn frilly, heavy, exceedingly feminine dress!

Finally he understood everything. The make-up, the diamonds, the slip... Even Antonio's comment that morning about would he be ready! Before he even realized what he was being asked or saying, the words "I do.", escaped his lips and he had tears in his eyes, but then the words "you may now kiss the bride" were spoken and Antonio was leaning in to kiss him...

_Kiss the... you git!_ SMACK_!_ Arthur's gloved hand lashed out across Antonio's face, instantly leaving an angry red hand print on the Spaniard's cheek. "You bloody git! I can't believe you did this! You know how hurt I've been all day because I thought you were setting out to marry some bloody cunt instead of m-" He was cut off as a rather exasperated Antonio pressed his lips against Arthur's, giving the emotionally overcharged Brit no chance to fight back, soon finding all he was able to do was respond by tangling pale fingers in Antonio's hair and kissing him back.

"I love you Arthur." Antonio whispered when they broke apart. Cheers had broke out throughout the entire church and Antonio responded by wrapping his arms possessively around Arthur's waist. "Really I do... I'm sorry I chose to do it this way... but I wouldn't do it any differently given the opportunity. Your face, amor... It was priceless... I didn't know if you were going to cry, scream or laugh... but no matter what you do or had done, you are mine and I plan to keep it that way." He said in that warm, rich voice that turned Arthur's legs to jelly and made his heart leap into his throat.

Arthur leaned into the familiar warmth of Antonio's chest and sighed, his irritation not completely spent with the slap. "You put me in a dress! Do you have any idea what I have been through today? Elizabeta is a devil woman! I have no. Hair. On. My. _Legs. _Anthony. None! There are glittering,sparkling jewels in my hair and make-up on my face! There are silver _death traps _on my feet and enough fabric on this bloody dress to cloth an entire third world country! Oh. Speaking of my choice of clothing. _YOU PUT ME IN A BLOODY DRESS! _A _dress _Anthony. Really? You are _soooo _asking for it, mate. Oh ho ho I better believe I'll get you back for this. Really. I feel so _ridiculous _in this God forsaken thing! I'm sure all of them were fighting back rolling laughter at the sight of my stupidity! I can't walk in this thing! My life flashed before my eyes just walking down the aisle! A dress. Next time you want me to cross dress I highly suggest you bring me a convincing arguement because I am _never _wearing a dress again. Do you hear me Antonio? _Never! _So get your fill now! OH! And don't even get me _started _on what that cunt made me wear _underneath _this thing!" Arthur ranted furiously, a dark scarlet blush dominating the majority of his face. To Antonio's credit and extreme patience, he allowed his new husband to rant his fill, hardly blaming the man. He was actually getting off more easily than he thought he would. He had expected much more than a slap after all.

"Are you quite finished, amor? There is a fiesta to go to, and right now, we are late." Antonio said with a soft laugh, his arms still wrapped possessively around the smaller man's waist, though the church had emptied completely, save the newly weds.

Arthur looked around in surprise and a new wave of color flooded his cheeks, though he defiantly glared at his new husband and pursed his lips. "One more thing, then I'll be done... for now. Have you ever heard of asking first? Last I checked the proper thing to do is ask someone to marry you, not just through a surprise wedding..." He chided, though the worst of his irritation was gone and a faint light of amusement now shown in his eyes, along with curiosity and love.

Antonio laughed, the warm sound filling the church and echoing throughout the cavernous structure. "Asking is over done amor... And I knew you wouldn't tell me no." His words sounded arrogant, but Arthur knew he wasn't being entirely truthful. The Spaniard may have suspected that Arthur wouldn't say no, but the Englishman had seen the terror in the man's eyes that morning, and new he hadn't been as sure as he said he had been.

Arthur turned in Antonio's arms and kissed hims sweetly, though maybe not as innocently as he should have in an open, public place, even if they were alone. When he broke away from his husband, his eyes were bright and a coy smile was on his face. "You know me so well. I love you so much more than I think you realize... And you are now mine. I have you now, and am never letting go, so you better have meant everything you said!" He said, though a shadow of panic flashed in his eyes as he realized it could all just be a hoax.

Antonio chuckled again and rolled his eyes before he proceeded to kiss away every doubt in Arthur's mind. "Te amo." Came the simple, whispered response that was enough to crush Arthur's squirming panic. Antonio had waited years to get to marry Arthur, and was never letting him escape.

Not even 'til death do they part.


End file.
